What Makes a King
by Candlewick
Summary: Edmund and Caspian get to know each other better as Edmund tries to focus on his kingly duties. Edmund/Caspian
1. Meeting

"We might have an advantage if we attack now. We've given him time to believe that we are lying low, and thus, Miraz won't be expecting it. Even so, to lay siege to such a fortified castle will take some thought. Ideas?"

Edmund sat next to the Stone Table, staring down at its cracked surface while wondering what to follow up to Peter's question. He remembered why the Stone Table had been cracked in the first place. It had been his fault, his foolishness. Although Aslan was healed now – for being a willing sacrifice – Edmund had never fully forgiven himself. He blinked, having gotten lost in his thoughts. Edmund searched the faces in the room, from Trumpkin, their "dear little friend," to Prince Caspian, who seemed more than upset.

Caspian began pacing, his arms crossed. "Why? Why would we have to sacrifice so many Narnians just so I can be king? I don't want to risk losing anyone over my want to dethrone Miraz."

"It's not just about you, Caspian," Peter said, somewhat annoyed. "Every Narnian wants you to be king. Miraz has taken away their true Narnia from them. You can give that back to them, but the only way to do that is through force."

"No, that's not true. Force will only cause the Narnians to be killed. I do what I feel is right; this doesn't feel at all right." He moved closer to Peter, and Edmund heard Caspian's chain mail clink together.

"Well, _your Highness_, do you want to be king or don't you?"

Here Caspian stopped. He looked around, and caught Edmund's eye. He looked worried. "I won't say that I feel completely prepared." Peter smirked victoriously.

Edmund jumped off the ground. He knew how hot-blooded Peter was, and didn't want him to take this opportunity to degrade Caspian. Peter could be pretty lousy at holding his temper. Then again, neither was Edmund – though he didn't admit this.

"C'mon... how about we send the centaurs to help us? They are plenty powerful, and we won't have to send many more Narnians. That way, both of you can be satisfied, then. Right?"

"Yes," Caspian glanced sidelong at Edmund, "and then get the centaurs killed." His eyes went back to Peter. "Just send me, and I can deal with Miraz myself!"

Edmund glared at Caspian, angry at being so blatantly brushed off like that. He muttered, quietly, "Yeah, and be killed with any luck."

Caspian turned to look back at Edmund, but wasn't particularly angry. It seemed as if he just wanted Edmund to leave him be; it was a look someone would give to a particularly annoying animal, or small child. Not a former king of Narnia.

He ignored him, inciting Edmund's anger. So much for trying to be nice. "What I wouldn't give," Edmund commented, more loudly, "to be in such an esteemed position as Caspian. How _noble_ of him to offer himself up like that to Miraz."

Caspian glared at Edmund, and furrowed his brow. "You know, Edmund, you aren't helping that much. If you aren't going to give advice, then leave. I wish that you would have been older so that I wouldn't have to deal with your immaturity." Edmund was seething, and Caspian was beginning to show signs of anger. Edmund inwardly smiled, proud at having made him upset.

Peter flicked his gaze to Caspian, then back to Edmund. "Caspian is right. Don't be so immature, little Edmund." He broke into a broad smile, and laughed. Edmund frowned harder, unwilling to be shaken.

Peter pointed to the map lying on the table that had previously been put into the room. Caspian's attention went back to Edmund's brother. "Miraz is as strongly protected right here and he is there, so I think if we came in through _here_ we would get a good start…"

Edmund stopped listening to his brother, and concentrated on being quiet. He knew he shouldn't have been so easy to break, and they hadn't even gotten that far into discussing the siege. _This is important to me, but right now I just want to get out of this place for a while_._ Maybe go and practice my swordplay… something. It's just that Caspian_;_ he drives me _insane.

Sitting down on the stone table, he watched Caspian. Susan was totally in love with the guy. Then again, maybe not. She says she loves a guy, but then ends up admitting to it being only an obsession. Edmund didn't understand how girls could be so inconsiderate. They tell a guy they love them, but then break up with them a week or so later. He didn't like girls all that much. There was _that_ reason, and also because his attraction fell elsewhere. Girls didn't suit his interests.

He wondered why Susan found Caspian so attractive. She usually went for the blonde hair, blue eyes thing. Caspian was dark, his curly hair forming waves around his face, the brown eyes so deep that they appeared black. Tall, strong, muscular. Her usual picks were lithe, arrogant, and, honestly, effeminate.

Edmund's eyes traveled Caspian's form, in a _strictly_ observational way. His tall posture, his determined face, his strong arms and chest. He let his gaze linger on Caspian's face. His gaze traveled lower, and lower, and… well, he could see why Caspian was the rightful heir.

Edmund cringed at having been thinking that. No, that was incorrect - he _hadn't_ just been thinking that about Caspian, Susan's crush. No. _No._ Something was wrong with this. Caspian was a jerk, and unattractive. Well, not his type. Good-looking, but… antisocial?

Peter and Caspian were staring at Edmund, obviously awaiting an answer. Edmund ruffled his hair and said, "Yes… I, er, agree."

His brother made a face. "Asking whether we should go with Caspian's plan, or my plan doesn't require your agreement. It's not exactly a yes or no answer. Are you okay, Edmund?"

Quickly averting his gaze to the Stone Table, Edmund's face heated up embarrassedly. He had just acted like a complete idiot in front of Caspian. That _prince_ was probably getting loads of fun out of this. Great. "Er… Both of your plans are so… exact…?"

"Exact?" Caspian questioned, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah, exact. So in tune with... stuff. Battle stuff?" Edmund was embarrassing himself to the point of ending his life. He should just stop.

Peter sighed. "He's obviously of no use – probably thinking about girls again." At this, Edmund almost had to laugh. "You obviously have been thinking this through, Caspian, but maybe I should go with you. I could easily take Miraz myself, but I wouldn't want you to be killed. While he's asleep, you and I will attack with the aid of the Narnians, but, as to keep quiet, it only we will enter his bedchambers." Caspian nodded silently to these conditions. Edmund didn't care either way; he was just happy to not have been questioned further.

Edmund stood up and leaned against a pillar as his brother continued to describe the siege in gratuitous detail. Puberty had seriously gotten to Peter, he decided, explaining his fits of uncontrollable rage and his desire to battle. He crossed his arms and shook the hair out of his eyes. He noticed movement in the corner of his eye, and saw Susan cross the room to better join the discussion. She was fiddling with the horn that had called them to Narnia. Caspian frequently glanced over at her, earning some strange looks from his sister. She claimed to be in love, but… she was a girl. She apparently liked to tease.

The transactions between Susan and Edmund carried on, even as Peter began to passionately describe the fortifications surrounding the Telmarine king's room. Susan pulled the hair back from her shoulders and pushed out her bosom as Caspian looked her way. Edmund was compromised between wanting to leave and wanting to bash his brains out on a nearby pillar. It certainly _was_ a decision.

As Susan began casually moving her dress around so as to show her calves, Peter adjourned the discussion. One by one, the Narnians left the Stone Table. Peter, Susan, Lucy, Caspian, and Edmund were the only ones left by the time the last had left. Lucy sat down next to Edmund, gazing into his downcast eyes with a slight curiosity.

"What's wrong, Edmund?" Lucy was sweet. She always welcomed everyone, no matter who they were. Lucy had forgiven him more than once for being a jerk.

During Lucy's question, Susan had slowly gotten up and was walking toward Caspian. He certainly looked nervous. As she walked, she admired the decorations on the walls. She paused at one point, glancing quickly at Caspian, and then looking away, flushed. He wondered why she didn't just talk to Caspian; it wasn't as if he were some kind of lethal animal. Weird. Caspian watched her carefully, and Edmund had to laugh. They both looked over at him, as well as Lucy. "Sorry, guys. I didn't mean to ruin the moment." Lucy still waited for him to answer, but, seeing no response, patted his head, stood, and left.

Susan pursed her lips and lifted her eyebrows, trying to make a point. She sauntered over to Caspian slowly, and gently placed her hand on his. She met his eyes, and smiled slowly. After taking away her hand, she began to leave the room. Wait, she just _had_ to glare at Edmund once before leaving, though. It felt wonderful to be so special.

After she left, Caspian appeared to be watching Edmund. He wouldn't stop. He looked at him as if he were some interesting exhibit. "What?" Edmund huffed. He stood up, intending to walk away. When he reached the exit, Caspian stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Edmund just looked at the thing.

Caspian brushed a strand of hair out of Edmund's face. Edmund pulled his head back. "Er…What?" he repeated, trying to sound commanding. Caspian smiled.

Edmund's eyes darted to Caspian's lips, and then back to his eyes. _What is he doing?_ Caspian smiled mysteriously once more, then stepped away from him. His heart beat faster, Edmund hating not knowing what was going on. "Nothing. Just admiring." He turned on his heel, and left him alone in the dim light near the Stone Table.

Edmund hated that idiotic, pathetic, snobbish, _attractive_, Prince Caspian.


	2. Accidental Bruising

**A/N**: Forgot to mention that this is movie verse. I love the books, but the characters are just _better_ in the movie.

The sun burned down upon the green field, heating Edmund's face as he sat in the soft grass. His sword that lay next to him waited to be used. His skills in swordplay were relatively lax, as he had been away for Narnia for so long; it seemed ages since he had even last _held_ a sword, as not many opportunities had presented themselves to him. It hadn't seemed particularly fitting to arrive at his sixth-hour physics class with a sword in hand.

He fumbled with one of the many rings on his chain mail underneath his cerulean long-sleeved shirt, considerably bored, and lay back onto the ground. _But it _is_ nice to be out here, away from the confusion of the siege_. _I just don't feel up to that right now_… _I actually feel rather inclined to attacking something with my sword_. Edmund smiled, the heat making him rather sleepy and stupid.

Edmund began to drift as he watched the blue sky. A few clouds slumped about lazily here and there, and all together it was quite peaceful. Stretching, he put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. _I'll just rest my eyes for a bit_, he thought. While he lay in between awareness and dreaming, it passed through his sleepy mind all the skills he needed to refresh, and the things that needed to be done. Obviously, his swordplay, but this day was to partially cure that problem; his behavior during the recent meeting had also been less than quality. He would have to study up on battle strategies once again; it was something he enjoyed, but not something he would prefer to do. It didn't sound at all reasonable to pass up a day of sword fighting in favor of studying the Battle of Hastings.

Scratching an itch on the tip of his nose, Edmund realized that he indeed had much to do. He could not waste his time dozing or daydreaming, and decided to sit up and wait for the others to arrive. He concluded that if no one got to the fighting grounds soon, he would introduce his sword to all the bed sheets in the castle.

As if to answer his thoughts, he saw approaching figures as he moved his head to the side. He lifted his hand to block out the sun, spying Peter among the group as they got nearer, and, to his regret, Caspian. But, that was only natural. He was a swordsman as well, and it was necessary to train every one. Even annoying gits.

They were still some distance away as Peter called out, "Edmund!" He waited for his brother to continue. "Are you ready for practice, then?" Edmund stayed on the ground, choosing to pick up his sword and wave it as an affirmative. Peter yelled back, "Excellent!", and motioned toward his own sword excitedly, apparently being too happy to deduce that it was an obvious fact as to why Peter was there.

Edmund stood up and brushed off himself when Peter was close enough for talking without yelling. Peter smiled as he said happily, "Well, we might as well get started _now_." Edmund replied with, "Pity, I was hoping we could all sit down and reminisce together."

Caspian laughed heartily, causing Edmund to smirk. Peter took it seriously, and commented with, "This is _swordplay_. Be realistic, Ed." Edmund brushed off the remark, and Caspian tried to stifle his laughter. "Okay, let's get into pairs," he said after he had successfully muffled himself. "I will decide _for_ you, so that there won't be any rush to find someone. _You_," he pointed at a burly man, "go with him, you go with this _lovely_ faun over here, and _you_ can go with him – oh, wait, you don't like him? Fine, then, take that centaur over there, I'm sure he will be nice to train with…" Edmund watched Caspian, thinking it quite funny to see him ordering everyone around; usually it was Peter. He always wanted to be the overlord, even if it meant being the master of handing out the silverware or cleaning the lavatory. Caspian seemed timid, but still could be a leader at times After Lucy and Susan were paired, there was Trumpkin, Edmund, Peter, and Caspian left unpaired.

As Caspian opened his mouth to speak, Peter interrupted him with, "I think I'll take Trumpkin. I've always wanted to see how I would do with him after seeing Edmund's bashing." Trumpkin glared at Peter, and said, "Now I won't have to be _sorry_ for breaking any of your _bones_."

Edmund said, as the two left with a somewhat scared-looking Peter, "Well… I guess that leaves us, then… so, let's go over to that spot. It looks good." Edmund gestured toward an empty space of the field, and Caspian nodded, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword and walking toward the area. Edmund had had some time to get over yesterday; it was most likely nothing. He knew he had a tendency to overreact, but he was slowly getting over it. He smiled, and walked casually. Caspian didn't seem quite so at ease; he would hold in his breath and let it out nervously. That made Edmund grin wider.

When they got to the clearing, he withdrew his sword from its sheath. He felt particularly confident, and excited to beat up that _prince_. Or just see what a pansy he really was. He eyed Edmund suspiciously, and also removed his sword. It glinted in the sun. Edmund looked down at his own sword, noticing rusting near the base. Also, it was much smaller than Caspian's. The prick.

Caspian took a deep breath, adjusting his leather arm guards. "Ready?" He asked. Edmund glared. His sword was prettier than his. That was _not_ all right. "Yeah, unless you want to go chat with the girls first." Caspian cocked an eyebrow and turned his head slightly. "Or share styling tips," he added.

"Well," Caspian said, sounding confused. He frowned at Edmund, who brushed back his hair with his free hand. This was to be a definite victory, and all he had to do was tease him a bit. Without warning, Caspian made the first move and lunged forward. Edmund struck out on instinct with his own sword and dodged backwards. Not even a sign that the fight had begun. With this thought in mind, Edmund bristled with anger.

The two rushed toward each other, and a harmony of metal resounded in the field. Edmund felt each strike in his arms, and each dodge in his calves. He was certain that his fighting needed to be improved already, as some muscles were already tiring. Their eyes were locked, and Edmund stared coldly.

His opponent countered a slice to his legs with an upward thrust to his chin, which Edmund in turn dodged with a clockwise turn. He jabbed diagonally upwards at Caspian, coming in contact with the chain mail around his neck. Violence was the only way with which his anger could usually be reasonably handled, and he yearned to draw blood. Caspian's cloth on the inside of his thigh ripped open. Edmund noticed it briefly, not having been aware of striking him. Caspian leaned into the wound, but continued fighting. He put his good leg forward, and drew out a knife from a place in his sword belt. He held the knife with his left hand, the sword his right. Edmund blinked. He only had his sword; he had deemed his second sword as useless for training. It was only used in times of great urgency, making the use of it in practice unfit. Apparently he would be needing it.

It was harder to dodge Caspian. Edmund found himself utilizing defense, and attacking less frequently. He was not as confident in his ability. His breath was coming harder, and his lungs began to feel constricted, as if a belt had been tightened around them. Caspian struck easily, even with his wound, and a victorious gleam was in his eye. Edmund wouldn't let it end like this.

A sudden rush of adrenalin came upon Edmund. He bared his teeth and broke through Caspian's defenses with a violent shove. He stumbled back, giving an opening, and Edmund elbowed him hard in the diaphragm.

Caspian fell on one knee, clutching his abdomen. Edmund strode slowly forward, not wanting to waste time. As he neared, Caspian somersaulted backward and quickly stood. His eyes were pained. Edmund took his sword with both hands, and swung. It was parried weakly by Caspian, who was still feeling nauseous.

Time went by as they continued to battle, neither speaking nor giving any sign of relenting to the other. Edmund got more desperate in his attacks, trying to sneak a jab in his side or a slice to the arm. Caspian was tiring out, but only showed it in his movements.

The wind rushed through Edmund's hair as he swiftly dodged a left strike to his side. He began feeling tired, and was unprepared for the next attack. Caspian slid his sword neatly into Edmund's unprotected bicep, and he yelled furiously. It was more hurt pride than anything. He scolded himself for not being aware. The other fighting pairs had not been that aggressive. On this vein of thought, he glanced at the field. Many of the pairs were gone, only a handful left. He skipped backwards, dodging a blow. Peter and Trumpkin were still there, with Peter running away from a pursuing dwarf with a sword. He was waving his hands in the air, screaming, "I surrender!"

Edmund laughed lightly; Caspian had also stopped. He looked at him. He could have taken a number of hits during this brief moment. Why hadn't Caspian attacked him? Edmund ignored this, and took the moment to attack his partner. He flipped his sword in his hand, having the hilt face Caspian, and rammed it forcefully against the side of Caspian's head.

Caspian stood a moment, and then said, "Oh." He fell like a wooden plank, completely backwards onto the ground. His eyes were closed, and his feet twitched twice before staying still.

Edmund stared at Caspian's unconscious body. "Damn."

Other pairs left as Edmund sat next to Caspian. The sun was almost at sunset, and the shadows had lengthened to cover most of the land. A glow was cast onto their bodies, and the reddish tint looked peaceful. It would have been much nicer if Caspian wasn't lying next to him unconscious, and twitching every few minutes. He had tried to wake him up, but he decided that it would only make matters worse if he started shaking him. An appealing thought of dumping him in a river passed through his mind briefly. His dismissed it, and decided to wait for the brute to regain awareness.

"Ugh." Edmund wiped a hand across his moist brow. "If only he wasn't such an idiot then he wouldn't be here now." He looked back at Caspian. Besides his twitching, he looked at ease. Edmund smacked him. "Serves you right," he said, nodding. "You act all high and mighty, and all _weird_, and then have a shiny, long sword, and here I am with this stubby, little thing, and..." He looked away.

"Sorry for hitting you," he said to the corpse-like Caspian.

He stood, stretching his arms to the sky. Behind him, he heard a groan. Edmund jumped, and quickly turned. Caspian's eyes were slits and a hand was on the side of his head.

Edmund cleared his throat, and said, "Morning."

Caspian rolled onto a side, saying, "Five more minutes."

There was a short silence. Edmund felt the need to say something. "Do you… maybe… _remember_ anything?"

He thought for a second. "No, not really. I just remember you hitting me in the head with your sword."

"Um."

Caspian glared at Edmund. Then he burst out laughing. Edmund began laughing, too, saying, "sorry, man," occasionally during his fit. He then began to hyperventilate due to the force of his laughs, and fell next to Caspian. Again, he said, "Sorry."

Rolling his eyes, Caspian said, "I've had worse. Still, you could have not picked that spot. I still need my brain, Edmund."

"Right." Edmund hoisted himself up onto his forearms. Everyone was now gone, with only a few pairs still walking to Aslan's How. "You know, we're the only ones here."

Caspian jolted upwards. "What?" Then, he clutched his head and fell back down. "Ouch." Edmund gave a short laugh, amused.

"Yeah, I suppose you should stay down for a while. That just _might_ be good." Edmund paused. "Or I could carry you back." Caspian gave him an odd look. "Okay, not really…" He stopped again. "But still."

"What is your favorite… kind of… cake?"

Edmund looked down at Caspian. He was making less and less sense. He was feeling nicer toward Caspian, and was genuinely sorry for hitting his head and turning him into a confused simpleton. He could imagine Susan's reaction to seeing Caspian intently discuss the best breeding for unicorns, and what shades of chain mail most complement his eyes. He quickly needed to see a healer, to prevent any of this staying with him.

He continued, his Spanish accent somewhat slurred. "I've always favored apple, myself… or is that pie? I don't know. You seem like a chocolate fudge cake type person. Aslan knows how to make the _best_ cakes. He has a lot of talents that not many people know about. I know I haven't seen much of him," he looked a little hurt here, "but I happen to know that he is just a _genius_ with baking. I mean, he's a lion. He should be, right? Right, Edmund?"

"Er… sure, Caspian." Edmund bit his lip, trying not to laugh. "It makes perfect sense."

Caspian squinted. "I know, I keep trying to tell everyone, but… they… how old are you?"

He looked at him, confused about the sudden change in topic. "I'm eighteen…" Caspian thought this to be terribly funny, and laughed until he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

"I'm twenty-five, but _really_ you are 1300 years older than me. Funny how these things happen."

Edmund muttered, "And you still act like a kid."

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm just talking about immature adults."

Caspian raised himself slowly, and sat closer to Edmund, watching nothing in particular. "Feel better?" Edmund asked.

"You know, Edmund," he said with a more serious face, "you're different than what I expected."

"You are, too." He shifted slightly.

Edmund looked at Caspian, who appeared to be concentrating on the sunset. His face was illuminated and softer in the rosy light. He wasn't at all angry with Caspian anymore. He moved a little closer to him. Softly, he said, "Narnia looks so much friendlier now."

Caspian glanced at him, and then said, "Yes. I sometimes wish I had been with you during the old days of Narnia, where every beast was a talking creature, and there wasn't so much destruction."

"Well," Edmund took a breath, "sometimes it's necessary. You can't have peace without first having war. It's inevitable." Caspian hummed in agreement.

They continued watching the sky; it was getting darker, but it was still bright enough to see. The summer heat made Edmund smile, and he tilted his head back slightly. Looking at Caspian, he felt that he didn't want to leave. Just yesterday, he had wanted to drop-kick him. Now, he thought he was rather nice. His presence made watching the evening more enjoyable, and how their thighs were touching made Edmund shiver delightedly. They were friends, but it wasn't ever said that friends couldn't be closer than normal. Edmund placed his right hand next to Caspian's, wanting to touch him.

Their fingers made contact. Caspian's hand began shaking slightly, and Edmund wondered if he shouldn't have done that, but then relaxed. It could be explained easily. An accident. He wanted to see Caspian, and turned his head little by little to the right. He was looking down at their hands. When he looked up, their eyes locked. Caspian looked unsure.

Edmund leaned into Caspian, wanting to be as close to him as he could. He took away his hand from Caspian's grip and instead placed it on his shoulder. He pulled him toward himself, and the closeness made Edmund dizzy. Edmund wetted his lips, and sighed, "Caspian," and pressed their lips together.

He was gentle, loving; Caspian's scent filled his nostrils – dark, earthy _desire_. He tilted his head, and Caspian rested a hand on his chest. Their lips moved together, softly. Edmund wanted more of him, but didn't want to go any further. This was enough, this delicious movement of lips upon his, and the heat of Caspian on his body.

Caspian pulled away, his eyes still closed. His lips were flushed a deep red, and Edmund gazed at him. Slowly, he raised his eyes, not saying anything. And he didn't have to.

They walked with deliberate slowness back to Aslan's How. Edmund stared up at the sky while Caspian watched the ground as he walked. They walked closely, almost touching but not quite. Edmund breathed out slowly and observed a large group of birds flying overhead.

He stopped near the How, causing Caspian to stop also. "Caspian," Edmund started. Caspian looked up quickly, "I'll be doing some sort of training tomorrow again. I think I'll be working with Peter in his room on… well, whatever he wants me to. He thinks I owe it to him or something. He mentioned mending his chain mail or polishing his shield. Anyway, if you want to see me, then that's where I'll be."

Caspian nodded. "Then I will see you tomorrow, Edmund."

He watched Caspian leave, the prince's shoulders pushed back confidently and his strides long; he still had a slight limp. Edmund grimaced, having forgotten about it, and looked down at his own wound. His arm was covered in blood, and it stung; he would have to do something about it later.


End file.
